


One Big Disaster

by Anonymous



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Corporate AU, Erik is a Grouch, Fluff, M/M, Muffins!, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is a self-made man who knows that the only way to succeed in business is to be a cutthroat bastard, but then he meets Charles, who is young and naïve and comes from money, and who believes that companies could flourish even more if only they focused on giving people what they want. And Charles gives Erik a muffin. Inspired by Matt Nathanson's Faster. Still not a songfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stella_Polaris](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Stella_Polaris).



> Written for 1stclass_kink on Livejournal. Prompt here: http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/8359.html?thread=16572071#t16572071  
> I have no beta, so Stella_Polaris and I are entirely to blame for this.

> Own me, you own  
> You rattle my bones  
> You turn me over and over  
> 'Till I can't control myself  
> Make me a liar  
> One big disaster  
> You make my heart beat faster  
> -Faster, Matt Nathanson 

  


* * *

 

It started out as a regular Monday morning for Erik. At 6 AM, he groaned, clobbered the snooze button on his alarm clock, and went back to sleep, at 6:15, he shut the damned thing off, went through his usual regimen of morning calisthenics, showered, ate, and headed out the door. By 9 AM, he was heading to his office, and watching his employees become suddenly engrossed in their work, ceasing their conversations and fixing their computers and paperwork with fascinated stares.

Erik took pride in his ability to strike terror into the hearts of his subordinates, and his reputation for being The Boss From Hell was well earned. The Lehnsherr Corporation had a strict zero-tolerance policy for slackers, as the employees had learned early on when Erik had unceremoniously fired a man on his first offence because “the Frost Fashions campaign won’t run itself, and I don’t have the resources to pay you to play Tetris.” From then on, there were few things that could break a man’s Tetris addiction faster than the presence of Erik Lehnsherr. Just as there was no room for online games, there was no room for sub-par advertising, and Erik’s way of letting his employees know this had crossed the line from irritation into verbal abuse on more than one occasion. To top it all off, paid sick days were so limited that employees had been known to make cracks about requiring a written note from the doctor and signed by their parents in order to have their absences excused. Not specific employees, of course, because no one would dare to make such remarks where they might be overheard.

Thus, it was with great confusion that Erik reached the fourth floor only to be greeted by a stretch of empty cubicles. He scanned the room in amazement, only to spot a group of suited men clustered about the water cooler. There was a wave of amused laughter, and one man (Erik recognized him as Mr. Aznabaev, the Russian-born one who went by Az because most of his co-workers were utterly hopeless at pronouncing his full name) jovially slapped another on the back.

“I know, I know!” exclaimed a laughing, accented voice from somewhere within the cluster of men, “but the thing is- the thing _is_ that it _works!_ I mean, think about it! Why has there been so much research into what colors attract attention? Because the consumer is far more likely to buy the product if the ad uses colors that he likes! It’s the whole basis of supply and demand, basically, but we get caught up in competition and number crunching, that we forget that it’s all about providing people with what they want! And-”

Erik cleared his throat, and the crowd dispersed at once, giving him mumbled apologies and rushing back to their respective desks. The speaker, however, stayed where he was. _‘Does he even work here?’_ Erik mused. The man before him was young, and his bright blue eyes and innocently puzzled expression made him appear even younger, hardly more than a boy. His suit was a shade of blue that was bright enough to be tacky and his hair flopped forward in a decidedly unprofessional manner. In his arms, he held a large, pink cardboard box. The young man cocked his head, and after a moment of tense silence, he smiled and spoke.

“Good morning, sir! Care for a muffin?”

A muffin? Erik Lehnsherr had just caught this boy very clearly not working and he had the nerve to give him that innocent look and offer him a muffin? Erik opened his mouth to say “do you even know who I am?” or “who the hell do you think you are?” or a number of more unsavory things, but… That smile was so damned soft and those eyes were so damned blue and Erik couldn’t quite muster up his usual rage, so he settled for a somewhat dumbfounded, “Do you work here?”

“Yes, sir! Today’s my first day!” The man really had no right to sound so very happy about it. “My name is Charles, by the way. Charles Xavier.”

“Yes. Right. And the muffins?”

“They’re from a bakery I passed on the way here. I thought it would be nice to introduce myself by bringing a little something for everyone. It’s important to get off on the right foot and all. And you know, I couldn’t help but think that it would make a nice tradition. Muffin Mondays! No one looks forward to the start of the workweek, but I’ve always found that having something to look forward to can be quite a help… Are you quite alright?”

 _‘Good God! By all rights, the boy should be shaking in his boots, but instead he’s rambling on about muffins!’_ Erik did his best to shift his stunned expression to one of sheer contempt, but the muscles in his face appeared to be on strike just then.

“I’m fine.” Then, just a little louder, for the sake of the other employees, “Get to work, Mr. Xavier. Since it’s your first day, I suppose I can cut you a little slack, but in the future, muffins will not be consumed during working hours. And don’t distract the others. God knows they get little enough done without your help.”  


‘It’s like sending a kid to his room,’ Erik thought, and he wasn’t sure whether he ought to be amused or mortified. ‘What the hell is this world coming to?’

And when he was sure no one was looking, he took the fucking muffin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and left comments and kudos! It means a lot to me! <3

On Wednesday, Erik’s hand wandered absently over the top of his desk as he stared at his computer screen wondering what he could possibly do with the Frost account. He’d gotten so fed up with his employee’s lack of results that he’d reassigned the man and taken the project on himself, but looking at the ridiculous fur stoles and giant satin bustles that dominated the new fall line, he could understand the lack of productivity. Who would wear these things? Well, other than Emma Frost herself. Ms. Frost was one of the agency’s highest paying clients, so Erik made nice with her, but the fact of the matter was that the woman’s sense of style was utterly incomprehensible to him.

‘ _Mamma’s always saying I’d be happier with a woman around the place, but I doubt this is what she had in mind,_ ’ he thought sullenly. Of course, he could dump the project on someone else, but he hired his employees for their work ethics, past experience and technical abilities rather than their fashion sense, and he doubted any of them would have a clue what to make of the new line. ‘ _How do you make sparkly road kill sound appealing, anyway?_ ’ He sighed and reached absently for his favorite pen. It was a silver plated ballpoint that would normally be far too extravagant for his tastes, but it had been a gift from his mother, and he found that twisting the top back and forth helped him to focus on difficult tasks. That, and it was shiny; Erik had always had a magpie’s eye for anything that glinted.

But as he stretched out his hand, it encountered nothing but the wood of the desk. He looked down in alarm to see that it was indeed missing. But who on earth would dare to take it? Erik never bothered to lock the door to his office because he knew that no one would dare to enter it. In fact, Erik’s office was usually the last place any of his employees would chose to be. So who was going around stealing pens? Whoever it was, Erik would make sure they never entered his office without permission again.

When he got up from the desk, he realized just how stiff his legs had become. A glace at his watch informed him that it was already 3:30. ‘Well, no harm in stretching my legs, considering how little I’ve gotten done at this point.’ He spent a few minutes stalking the floor, but even when the stiffness had left his body, his focus hadn’t improved much. As he neared the break room, he caught a whiff of something (was it fresh bread? and eggs?) and he paused by the door. His stomach seemed determined to point out to him that skipping breakfast in favor of reading a particularly well-written article in the paper hadn’t been among his better ideas.

Without even meaning to, he found himself striding into the room, and there was Xavier, sitting at the table with his nose in a book and half of a sandwich in his hand. Erik moved to turn away and leave the man to his lunch, but his stomach (clearly still set on vengeance) gave a loud growl and Xavier turned to face him.

“Ah, Mr. Lehnsherr!” he exclaimed brightly. “ And when Erik’s stomach spoke up again, “Have you not eaten yet?”

“No. I got caught up in my work. Anyway, I’ll just leave you to-”

“Won’t you join me? I’ve always found that lunch is much more enjoyable with company than it is alone.”

Erik couldn’t help but stare for a moment. ‘ _He wants me to eat lunch with him? Why? Is this how he treats all his bosses? He acts awfully casual for a man I’ve only just met._ ’

“Well, I didn’t bring any food with me today, so I was just on my way out to get some.”

“Oh, that’s alright! You can have half of mine. Do you like egg salad?”

“That’s very kind of you, but I really couldn’t…”

The man’s eyes were so very, very blue, and even as Erik began to reject his offer, those eyes grew a little bigger, just a trace of sadness darkening them. Xavier’s lips (very nice, reddish lips, at that) pulled into a slight frown.

“Well, alright. If you don’t mind.” Erik took the seat across from Xavier, and the man smiled (such a very pretty smile) and pushed the plate with the other half of the sandwich towards him. Erik took a bite of the sandwich and braced himself for the bland, greasy concoction on stale, papery bread that most delis seemed to believe they could pass off as food. To his surprise, the bread turned out to be quite fresh and he even tasted paprika in the salad.

“Like it?” Xavier was beaming at him as though he had won a major victory.

“Surprisingly, yes. I have very discerning tastes when it comes to food, but this is… good.”

“It’s the best,” Xavier said emphatically. “I got it from a little shop just a few blocks from here, The Blackbird Café. It’s a bit of a hole in the wall, really, but it’s clean and the people who work there are always very friendly.”

They ate in companionable silence, and Erik tried to picture the place, thinking he must have passed it on the way to work hundreds of times, but he found that he couldn’t remember ever having had seen it. “Where is the café? I thought I knew all the good places around here.”

“I’ll write down the address for you,” Xavier answered, pulling a napkin towards himself, then reaching in the pocket of his slacks for something to write with.

That was when Erik saw that Xavier had his pen. He kept his face impassive, resisting the urge to snatch it from his hand.

“Where did you get that.” It came out flat, more like an order than a question. Xavier flushed and furrowed his brows in response.

“Well, err… The thing is, Mr. Lehnsherr… It’s just that I was walking over to the copy machine and suddenly I got this great idea for that dog food commercial I’m working on, and I didn’t want to forget it but I’d left my pen at my desk, which is on the other side of the floor, and your pen just caught my eye. The door was open, so I figured you wouldn’t mind, and I was going to put it back, only then Az and Janos wanted me to take a look at what they were working on and one thing lead to another… I really was going to return it, though!”

One thing was certain: no one could pull of the flustered look like Charles Xavier. Erik found that yet again, he couldn’t bring himself to react as he normally would (striking the fear of Erik Lehnsherr into the heart of the employee who dared to defy him) so he settled for taking the pen back with a less than heartfelt sigh. Xavier just looked at him, a little apologetic, but mostly curious and clearly waiting for some sort of reaction.

It was Erik who broke the silence. “So what was this great idea, then?”

Instantly, Xavier was back to his usual state of childlike animation. “You know how in some animal-related commercials the animals still make their usual noises but a voice actor does sort of an inner monologue? Well, I was thinking that the commercial would start with this really mean-looking dog, a pit-bull or something, jumping up at the gate of a yard, barking and growling at the mailman. The voice-over would say something like ‘Just wait until I figure out how to get this thing open! You’re going to be in serious trouble, Mailman!’ Then there’d be the sound of the dog’s owner pouring food into a bowl and the dog would growl one more time and the voice over would say ‘Next time you won’t be so lucky,’ and then the dog would slink back into the house. The camera would follow him in and he’d take a bite of the food. Then he’d look around and once he was sure no one could see him, he’d wag his tail and the voice-over would say ‘Hey, even I can’t resist Mr. Waggy’s!’ and that’s how the commercial would end.”

Erik mulled it over. He never would have thought of something so utterly silly, but then again, the most lucrative pet-supply commercials generally had a whimsical feel to them, and he had to admit, the idea did sound promising.

“I like it,” he decided, and Xavier graced him with a gleeful smile, as if the thing he wanted most in the world was Erik’s approval.

“As it happens, you can take some of the credit for it. See, when I came up with it, I was thinking about how you reacted to the muffins I brought in.”

Erik had no idea what he was supposed to say in response. It pleased him that the younger man had been thinking about him, but it wasn’t as though he was going to admit that. He decided that changing the topic to safer ground would be the best thing to do. If there was one thing he _did_ know how to talk about, it was business.

“Mr. Xavier,” he started.

“Please. Call me Charles.” Another of those damned smiles.

“Charles. You don’t happen to know anything about fashion, do you?” Erik made sure to lace the words with as much sarcasm as he could manage. After all, Charles’ suits were pretty over the top.

As if reading his mind, Charles chuckled and answered, “I know my dress-sense is rather abysmal, but I have some knowledge of ladies’ attire. My sister, Raven makes me watch Project Runway with her every week. It’s an awful show, really, but I’ve gained a little knowledge ”

“Perfect. Have you heard about the infamous Frost account?”

“Oh yes, Janos mentioned it. It sounds like a tricky case.”

“You’re about to find out for yourself,” Erik said, fixing Charles with his best shark grin. “As your punishment for stealing my favorite pen, that’s the case you’re going to be working on as soon as you finish with the dog food ad.”

It was purely a practical decision, having nothing to do with wanting to see more of the younger man. Erik _was_ a businessman, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who's been following this fic: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up! I've been really busy with finishing up high school and applying to colleges. I'm going to be pretty occupied with that for the next couple of months, but I'm still going to do my best to keep the chapters coming, since I'm really enjoying writing this!  
> Also: Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! They really make my day!

The next Monday, Erik came into the building only to see a handmade flier posted on the bulletin board. It was a simple design: a giant cartoonish muffin in the center of the page. The words "MUFFIN MONDAYS! " were written in bright blue marker across the top and in smaller script at the bottom "At the request of Mr. Lehnsherr, muffins are to be consumed only in the break room. Enjoy!"

Erik stopped, frowned at the poster, but continued on his way. He hadn't actually given Charles permission to host any kind of even in the break room, but he supposed there wasn't much use in taking down the poster now. Someone was sure to have seen it already, and in Erik's experience, office news traveled fast. He might as well let them have their muffins. When someone inevitably got crumbs wedged into a keyboard, he'd put his foot down.

He wandered into his office and automatically reached for the mouse to bring the computer out of sleep mode.  
"Er, good morning, Mr. Lehnsherr."

Erik jumped back, and gave the room a second look, this time taking in the mop of brown hair that was barely visible over the top of his chair. "Xavie- Charles? What are you doing here?"

"I've finished with my part in the Mr. Waggy's ad," Charles replied, turning the chair to face him. "I'm still going to be assisting you with the Frost campaign, aren't I?"

"Yes, of course. I didn't expect you to be in so soon, though. That, and I was still mulling over your little poster." He settled into his best "scary boss" voice and continued, "Just to be clear, Mr. Xavier, I never sanctioned the consumption of muffins in the workplace."

"Didn't you? Oh, well I do apologize then," Charles replied, breaking into a mischievous smile. "Only I could have sworn I saw you eating one last week."

Erik shrugged, obviously caught. "Yes. Well." He cleared his throat. "Have you gotten a chance to look at Ms. Frost's file? I wouldn't normally ask, but you don't seem to mind making yourself at home in my office."

Charles' eyes lit up with obvious enjoyment, and Erik observed that the young man either hadn't picked up on his remark about privacy, or he just hadn't cared. "Oh yes! I was quite impressed with the new line."

"You _were_?" Erik's face apparently showed the _"why?"_ that he'd barely restrained himself from speaking aloud, because Charles let out a laugh that was somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle.

"Yes. It's a kind of revamped old Hollywood style. A good concept, though if the fur is real, it won't go over well with the animal rights crowd."

"I made a point to ask Ms. Frost about that. The fur is fake, but it's a very high quality and feels nearly identical to real fur." Then, after a moment's pause: "You really don't think they're too... Shiny?"

"I think that's what's supposed to give them a modern edge. The silhouettes are fairly conservative and the gowns don't show much skin, so the metallic colors are there to make sure they still catch the eye." With a mildly sheepish look, he added, "At least, I think that's what Raven would say."

"I still can't see it," Erik admitted.

"Here, I'll show you." Charles opened the browser and quickly found a few images of glamorous women in vintage mink coats. "This is the look that she's trying to update," he explained. "See how much more current the styles of her dresses are, though? That's what makes the line."

Erik picked up a photo of one of Emma Frost's dress-and-shawl ensembles and leaned in to peer closer at the picture on the monitor. There were some obvious similarities, but the two were clearly designed by two different people.

"I suppose-" He stopped, realizing that his chest was pressed right up against Charles' back. Charles' warmth reached him even through both their shirts and his hair smelled like shampoo: clean and a little sweet. Erik jerked back, sure that Charles (his young, innocent employee, he sternly reminded himself) must have felt his heart beating a little too hard. This hadn't been what he'd pictured when he'd assigned Charles to help him with Frost. Or was it? Ok, so maybe he had wanted to get to know Charles better, but this was ridiculous. He barely even knew the man; there was no reason to get so worked up over a simple touch.

He rolled his shoulders and collected himself. "I suppose I can see the influence, but I still can't understand the appeal."

Charles swiveled the chair back around to face him, a pensive expression pushing his lips into a slight pout. "Well, I think everyone wants to be the center of attention at some point. These looks aren't subtle, but they aren't meant to be. The idea is that they're loud and elegant at the same time. My sister would say it's a feminist statement."

"How on earth are flashy dresses and furs that cost too much a feminist statement?" It was a valid point, he knew, but his voice was missing its usual harshness and it sounded almost petulant in his ears.

"Mr. Lehnsherr, don't you have any poetry in your soul? Like in any other form of art, a significant part of fashion is the concept behind it. Ms. Frost's designs are all about how women don't have to be quiet and meek to be seen as beautiful. Say, that's not half bad, is it? We could work with that."

"Erik."

"What?"

Behind his back, Erik clenched and unclenched his fists, a nervous habit he'd never outgrown.

"If we're going to be working together on this and I'm going to call you by your first name, you should call me by mine. It's Erik."

Once again, he found himself on the receiving end of Charles' smile. This one was skewed with humor: just the slightest bit crooked.

"Pleased to meet you, then, Erik."

~-~-~-~

On Thursday, Erik came into his office to find not only Charles, but Emma Frost, as well. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end and he frowned, trying his hardest not to glare at the woman while still sending an appropriate "this is my personal space so get the hell out of it" message. The designer, it seemed, was not receiving.

"Ms. Frost, I believe out next meeting was scheduled for next Friday."

"So it was," she replied, placidly. "I just stopped by to drop off a couple more pictures, in case you were lacking inspiration, but then your lovely Charles here invited me in. He's been telling me about your inspired read on my line. It's very good, if rather unexpected from you. I'm impressed."

"There's a 'but' here, isn't there?"

"You know me so well. I'm not convinced it will convince buyers." Her tone remained perfectly even, but Erik knew where this was going. It always went like this.

"Ms. Frost, we are an _advertising firm_. This is what we _do_." ' _Stop questioning me and get out of my office before I drag you out_.'

"And you're working for _me_ which means you listen to what I _say_."

At the same time, they turned to face Charles, who shook his head, and smiled, and said in his strange, earnest way, "It's obvious that you don't get on well, which is a shame because you're very much alike."  
Now they turned to each other, sizing one another up, eyes scanning posture. Frost's cautious "perhaps" came at the exact same time as Erik's flat "no."

"You are," Charles continued, after stifling a laugh. "You're both strong, independent people: competitive, driven, and constantly trying to improve upon your successes. Neither of you wants the other to be too much in control, and so you butt heads at every turn."

The designer and businessman exchanged looks again, but this time in disbelief.

"What neither of you has realized," Charles continued, "Is that there's no need to assert your dominance. Just agree to listen to each other and neither of you has to have more power than the other. This campaign is a partnership." Apparently unaware of how incredibly out of line his speech had been, Charles simply looked at them expectantly, his beatific smile undisturbed.

"Charles, dear," Emma said at last, "You are simply adorable. And no doubt wise beyond your years. Mr. Lehnsherr, I'm willing to put aside our differences-- or similarities, in this case-- if you are."

Erik simply nodded, and blinked, and tried to figure out what on earth had just happened and more importantly, why he wasn't feeling the urge to strangle the life out of either of them.

"So," Charles started again, "Let's talk about these ads of yours."

~-~-~-~

By the time Emma Frost had left, they had somehow become a decent team, and Erik was left wondering what Charles had done to make the woman so compliant. "You must be some kind of snake charmer," he mumbled, and Charles simply turned his wide, blue eyes on him, a look that said ' _Who, me_?'

"I did mean what I said about the two of you, though," he said, all heartfelt honesty again.

Erik looked away, fists moving behind his back again. "I know. You'd make one hell of a powerful politician. Dangerous, even." When

Charles only frowned, Erik sighed and forced himself to look the man in the eyes. If he could handle Emma Frost, surely he could manage to look at his own coworker.

"You've got a way with people, Charles," he said, his tone deep and hushed. "I don't understand how you can be so sincere all the time, or how you get people to hear you out when they'd never be willing to listen to anyone else. You're very gifted."

Charles beamed at him. "I know," he said, his expression somewhere between cocky and grateful. "But it's good to hear you say so."

And then he was off again, full of new ideas, rushing around the office, and darting to the printer and back, and producing sketches that no one but Janos (master graphic designer that he was) could hope to make out. As for Erik, he was left wondering what the young man had done to him, and considering calling Emma just to make sure that all this was actually real, and that he wasn't delirious and about to wake up with a cool cloth pressed to his head.

As he watched Charles scamper off to show Janos a billboard design, Erik couldn't keep the smile from his face, and when Az passed by and gave him a startled look, Erik found that he really didn't give a damn.

**Author's Note:**

> More to follow! And I'll love you forever and ever if you leave comments!
> 
> Also! I totally stole the whole Azazel-being-called-Az-do-to-having-a-crazy-Russian-name thing from Oddegg's I ♥ NY (It’s My Friends I’m Not Sure Of). If you haven't read it, you're missing out.


End file.
